


Good Enough

by dsa_archivist



Category: Touched by an Angel, due South
Genre: Crossover, Drama, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-02-14
Updated: 1999-02-14
Packaged: 2018-11-10 06:55:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11122113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: An old friend of Ray's is in town, and the boys need of a couple of Angels to remain friends... and stay alive! A DUE SOUTH/TOUCHED BY AN ANGEL Crossover





	Good Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Good Enough

 

_This story originally appeared in the zine COMPASS POINTS #2._  
It was written more than a year before David Marciano's   
appearance on TOUCHED BY AN ANGEL. Which one is better? I'll  
let you decide... 

****** 

# Good Enough

by Angela Rivieccio

The post rush-hour crowds had thinned somewhat on the normally busy Chicago sidewalks, as people made their way home after a long day's work. Those who remained walked briskly onward, paying little heed to those around them. 

Therefore no one saw the dark haired woman who people- watched happily as she sat upon the hood of a parked car. 

"If you sit still for too long in this kind of weather, you'll freeze to death." 

Monica turned to see her Supervisor standing beside her, dressed in a warm winter coat, and smiled. "Tess. You know, it amazes me how the weather isn't always the only thing that makes big cities such as this one cold." 

"I know what you mean, baby," the dark woman replied. She started to walk slowly down the street, Monica falling into step beside her. "If people only opened their hearts and gave of themselves a bit more, the warmth they'd receive in return would be enough to melt an iceberg." 

"Why are they so afraid to let love in?" 

Tess stopped before the plate glass window of a small diner. "Well, because the human heart is very fragile. That's why many people are so fond of the expression 'Once burned, Twice shy.' But it's really just an excuse." 

Monica peered in the window, her gaze coming to rest on a handsome man dressed in a red uniform seated at the counter. Beside him sat an off-white dog. "What kind of uniform is that, Tess?" 

"That's the dress uniform of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police," Tess replied. "That man is a Mountie, and he's also your next assignment." 

Monica's eyes widened. "Canadian? Then what is he doing in Chicago? And where's his horse?" 

"He works at the Canadian Consulate, and he doesn't have a horse. But he does have a heart -- a heart that he keeps carefully tucked away behind a strong wall of duty." 

"Oh, so he's one of those cold, drill-sergeant types, eh?" 

"Don't get smart, Miss Wings. That man is one of the most polite, honorable, and compassionate people you could ever hope to meet. The world would be a better place if there were more people like him. He's risked everything time and again to help others, but he's too afraid to let people get close to him and risk getting hurt." 

Monica looked up at older woman. "So what is it I'm supposed to do?" 

"It's your job to show him that opening your heart is more than just helping people and doing what's right. It's about being honest with yourself and with those who care about you." 

Monica shrugged. "Sounds easy enough." 

"Don't be so sure about that, Miss Wings. There's another human expression at play here -- 'Still waters run deep.' If he can't open his heart to those who truly matter, he may not be the only one who'll live to regret it." 

Monica watched silently as the Mountie paid the cashier and left the diner, the dog walking companionably beside him. 

\---------- 

Fraser closed the door to his apartment at 221 West Racine and started for the stairs. Diefenbaker was already making his way to the first floor, anxious to roam the busy streets of the urban jungle where they now lived. It certainly was different from the wilderness of Canada's Northwest Territories, and even after living here for nearly three years, Fraser was still acclimating himself to the changes. 

When he reached the second floor landing, he saw that Dief had stopped by an open door at the end of the hall. Fraser shook his head in consternation. "Diefenbaker, it's impolite to just barge in on people unannounced." 

"Oh, no. He's no trouble at all," a heavily accented female voice replied from inside the apartment. 

Fraser approached the open door and found the owner of the lilting Irish brogue was a woman in her mid-thirties, who was just beginning to unpack her belongings from numerous large moving cartons. She smiled when she saw him. "Ah, you must be the Welcoming Committee." 

Fraser inclined his head, bringing a hand up to tip his Stetson. "Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police. And this," he glanced down at Dief, who was staring intently at their new neighbor, "is my wolf, Diefenbaker." 

"I'm Monica. Wolf, did you say? I've never actually met a wolf before." She bent down and ran a hand through Diefenbaker's fur. Dief extended his muzzle and licked her on the chin. She laughed, rubbing him more briskly in return. "He seems very personable." 

"Well, he is, usually, although he has a tendency to forget his manners." 

Monica gave the wolf one final pat on the head before standing once again. "Well, wolves have a spirit that knows 

no bounds, so one must be a little lenient where the niceties are concerned." 

Fraser blinked. "Uh, yes." He glanced around her to the boxes in her apartment. "Have you just moved to Chicago?" 

"Yes, although I've made several brief visits here before. What about you? Why is a Mounted Policeman from Canada living so far from home?" 

"I work at the Canadian Consulate. I'm afraid we're on our way to work right now, or else I would offer our assistance to help you unpack." 

"That's very kind of you, Benton, but I wouldn't want you to be late for work. Besides, I think I can manage." 

Fraser nodded. "If you need any help, please don't hesitate to ask. I'm in apartment 3J." 

Monica smiled warmly at him. "Thank you. You have a very pleasant day." 

"You, too. Thank you kindly." 

Monica bent forward and gave the wolf another pat on the head. "And you have a good day, too, Diefenbaker." 

The wolf barked in reply. 

Fraser started for the stairs, and Diefenbaker reluctantly followed. 

\---------- 

Ray Vecchio surveyed the crime scene for a final time before closing the small notepad he carried and slipping it into his coat pocket. The call had come in an hour ago. A body had been found in an alley on the south side -- no identification, and no apparent cause of death. By the time he had arrived at the scene, the medical examiner was already working over the body. After the coroner released the crime scene, Ray and a forensics team began their work, but they hadn't come up with much. 

_Probably just another junkie who got a hold of some bad stuff,_ he thought to himself, years of dealing with the darker side of humanity desensitizing him somewhat. 

"Ray?" 

Vecchio turned, scanning the crowd for the source of the inquiry. Green eyes widened when he saw the voice's owner approaching him. 

"Eddie? Eddie Seduto?" 

Seduto grinned broadly. "Hey, paesan! How the hell are you?" 

The hugged, pounding each other on the back. Ray stepped back and gave his old friend the once over. "I'm doing great. How about you? The last time I saw you was before you and your folks moved East. Must've been, what, seventeen, eighteen years ago?" 

"Twenty, but who's counting?" Seduto replied, feigning indifference. "Man, have you changed! When we were growing up, you were this chubby little kid who could never get enough of his mama's cooking." 

"Hey, I still can't," Ray laughed, patting his now-flat stomach. "But at least now I exercise more. The job keeps me pretty busy." 

They started walking away from the crime scene. "I can't believe you're a cop, Ray," Seduto said, a hint of amazement in his voice. "I thought your ol' man hated cops?" 

"Yeah, he did," Ray replied coolly, then changed the subject. "So, what are you doing here, Eddie?" 

"A little business, a little pleasure. I'm checking up on one of my companies here in Chicago." 

Ray was impressed. "One of your companies? What type of business?" 

"Construction. Got a booming business out in New Jersey, and do work all over the tri-state area. I opened up a branch office here in Chicago last year, and it's doing quite well. Hey, listen," Eddie stopped Ray with an arm around his shoulder. "How about you and me go grab a bite to eat -- talk about old times over a nice dish of pasta?" 

"I'd like that, Eddie, but I gotta meet a friend in about an hour--" 

"Well, then how 'bout we shoot the bull over a capuccino, then? Come on. There's a good place right up the block. My treat." 

Ray glanced down at his watch, then smiled, shrugging his shoulders. "I never could say no to you." 

"Yeah, I remember. I always could sucker you into anything," Seduto chuckled, giving Ray a light pat on the stomach as he steered him down the street towards the restaurant. "Like that time when I conned you into going out with Rosetta DiMario on that blind date..." 

\---------- 

Fraser climbed the stairs to the second floor of the police station, Diefenbaker following along behind him. He was looking forward to a relaxing meal with Ray. The day had started going downhill from the moment he had stepped foot inside the Consulate. A report that needed to be faxed to Ottawa got jammed in the fax machine, and he and Ovitz had spent an hour trying to get it fixed. Then a very disgruntled Canadian citizen consumed another hour of his day due to a computer mix-up involving the man's passport application. Thatcher then assigned him a mountain of tedious paperwork before leaving the building for some meeting, stressing the fact that it **must** be completed by the end of the day, and he'd been forced to forgo his lunch hour in order to get it all done and still be able to meet Ray on time. It hadn't helped that, with Thatcher out of the office, he had been forced to field numerous telephone calls that the people calling could have gotten the answers to themselves if they had only put the slightest bit of effort into it. 

Dinner with Ray would be just the thing he needed to sooth his frayed nerves. 

Fraser entered the squad room, moving directly to the desk normally occupied by his friend in the corner of the room. 

But Ray wasn't there. 

Fraser turned, scanning the bullpen, and spotted Elaine Besbriss preparing to leave for the evening. He joined her at her desk. 

"Good evening, Elaine." 

Elaine smiled at the Mountie. "Hi, Fraser. Haven't seen you in a few days. How's everything going?" 

"Fine, thank you for asking. Have you seen Ray?" 

She shrugged into her winter coat. "Uh, I think he went out on a call a while ago. Haven't seen him since. Why? Is something wrong?" 

"No, it's just that I was supposed to meet him here after work. He is taking me to this new restaurant he stumbled upon recently. I believe it's called 'Il Bel Paese.'" 

"Oh, yeah. I heard about that place -- it's supposed to be pretty good." She caught a hint of disappointment in his normally clear blue eyes, and gave a sympathetic shrug. "Well, he probably got hung up on a case, and just forgot to call you." 

Fraser nodded. "You're probably right. He has been rather busy of late." 

"I've already got plans tonight, or I'd go with you myself." 

Fraser's eyebrows climbed fractionally. "Oh, well, it's very kind of you to offer, Elaine. But I don't want to keep you from your appointment." He stepped back, allowing her to pass. 

"I'll tell Ray you missed him when I see him tomorrow." 

"Thank you kindly, Elaine. Have a very nice evening." 

"Night, Fraser," she replied, then headed for the door. 

Fraser cast one final glance around the near-empty squad room, then looked down at Diefenbaker, who was watching him expectantly. "Looks like we'll be eating leftovers tonight, Dief." 

The wolf whined angrily at him, then moved towards the exit. 

Fraser sighed, then followed out after him. 

\---------- 

They went for a long walk in the park, Diefenbaker frolicking amidst the snow-covered brush. While the transition from the northern wilderness to an urban jungle had been difficult for the Mountie, Fraser sometimes thought it had probably been even harder on the wolf, and he tried to get both of them 'back to nature' as often as possible. Diefenbaker especially enjoyed the winter months, the snow- covered landscape so much more like his former home that, once back in his element, he always seemed reluctant to leave. 

Night fell early this time of year, and street lamps lit the dark winter evening. Eventually Fraser's empty stomach reminded him that he had not eaten since breakfast, and they walked the short distance back to the apartment building. Fraser checked his mailbox while Dief rushed up the stairs, the assortment of junk mail disheartening. Did these companies honestly believe the small percentage of extra business these advertisements brought in was worth the destruction of thousands of acres of wilderness? Shaking his head, he started for his apartment. 

As he reached the second floor landing, he noticed Diefenbaker sitting before their new neighbor's door. 

"Diefenbaker..." he began, but the door to the apartment opened and Monica poked her head outside. 

"Oh, Benton. I was hoping it was you," she said as she petted the wolf's head. "I'm having a wee bit of trouble moving a piece of furniture, and was hoping your offer to help was still good." 

"Of course," he replied, joining them at the entrance. "I'd be happy to help." 

Monica smiled. "Come on in." 

They went inside. The stacks of cartons from earlier that morning had been cleared away, and the small apartment was now quite tastefully furnished, decorated in soft pastel colors. The scent of flowers could be detected beneath the aroma of something cooking on the stove. 

"Well, I must say, you have done an excellent job decorating," Fraser observed. "Do you do this for a living?" 

Monica glanced around. "Oh, no. Although it would probably be a wonderful field to get into." 

"Yes, I imagine it would be." She led him to the double dresser in the corner that would serve as her bedroom. "Is this the furniture you would like moved?" he asked as he removed his uniform jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. 

"I tried to move it myself, but it's too heavy for one person. Perhaps if we both..." 

"No, no," Fraser said as he waved her off. "I wouldn't want you to injure yourself." 

Several minutes later, the dresser stood against the opposite wall. 

"There, how's that?" 

Monica smiled. "Perfect. Thank you so much." 

"No trouble at all," he replied as he started to unroll his sleeves. 

The quiet bell of the kitchen timer sounded. Monica glanced at the stove, then back to Fraser. "Have you eaten dinner yet?" 

"Not yet. Actually, we had a last moment change of plans, and..." 

"Well, I've got more than enough for the three of us. Would you care to join me?" 

The invitation was an honest one -- he could sense none of the disturbing undercurrents that often accompanied invitations he had received in the past by other women. 

Sensing his hesitation, she added, "It would give me the chance to thank you properly for your help." 

He glanced down at Diefenbaker, who looked back at him with a silently pleading expression before turning his gaze back to their host. "Well, if you're sure we won't be putting you to any trouble." 

"Don't be silly. Besides," she glanced down at the wolf, then leaned towards him, her voice taking on a conspiratorial air, "I rather enjoy the company." 

After a moment, Fraser nodded. "All right." 

Again, a smile broke across Monica's lips. "Good. Then have a seat, and dinner will be ready in a moment." 

Dinner consisted of a freshly tossed salad, some soup, dinner rolls, and linguini with garlic and oil. She filled a plate for Diefenbaker and placed it on the floor in the kitchen before sitting down to join Fraser at the table. 

"So, what brings you to Chicago, Benton? It seems like a long way from home." 

Fraser swallowed before speaking. "Well, it's a rather long story. It would take exactly two hours to tell you all the details." 

"Well, just hit the highlights, then." 

Fraser explained through the course of the meal how the trail of his father's murderer had led him to Chicago, and how he had teamed up with Detective Ray Vecchio of the Chicago police department, who had been assigned the case. He led her through their investigation, Ray's injury, and his confrontation with Gerard. She listened intently as he described their escape from Gerard's hitmen, Diefenbaker's wounding, and his ultimate rescue by an Inuit hunter. 

"...Unfortunately, my actions caused somewhat of an embarrassment to the RCMP and the Canadian government, and so I was reassigned to the Consulate here in Chicago. We've been here ever since." 

Monica's expression was one of compassion. "It must have been very difficult for you -- to lose your father and your home all at the same time." 

Fraser glanced towards the window. "We managed." 

"Still," she continued, "it must not have been easy settling in to a new environment with no one to help you." 

"Well, there was Ray," Fraser corrected, thinking back to when he first rented his apartment. The corner of his mouth quirked upward involuntarily. "Although he did seem a bit reluctant to do so at first." 

"Why was that?" 

"He seemed to be--" Fraser searched for the right word, "perplexed at my choice of choice of living arrangements, and about a lot of other things as we got to know each other." He shrugged apologetically. "Most people are, I'm afraid." 

Monica frowned. "Don't be so hard on yourself, Benton. I'm sure in the two years you've been here you've managed to make other friends." A warm smile came to her lips. "Or find a special lady, perhaps?" 

Fraser's expression seemed to freeze suddenly, anguish flaring up in his clear blue eyes before it was quickly banked, the sparkle disappearing right along with it. After a moment, he glanced down at his watch, then got to his feet, clearing his throat. "Well, um, it's getting late, and Diefenbaker and I don't want to overstay our welcome, do we, Diefenbaker?" 

The wolf, who had been sitting quietly beside the table watching them eat, glared at him, growling softly. 

Monica stood as well, a bit startled. "It's not that late. Wouldn't you care for some coffee?" 

"No, I'm afraid we can't stay," Fraser replied as he moved towards the door. He turned back to her as he opened it. "Thank you kindly for dinner. Come on, Dief." 

He closed the door soundly behind them. 

Monica stared at the closed door, dismayed. 

"Well, that was a smart move, Miss Wings." 

Monica started guiltily, then turned to see her supervisor seated in the chair Fraser had recently vacated. 

"You're supposed to help him open up," Tess continued. "Not break him open with a two-by-four." 

"I know, Tess. I know. It's just that he's got so much pain locked up inside him... Like that place where he grew up in -- the Yukon. The surface is covered with so many layers of permafrost that, unless the temperature goes up radically, the snow and ice will never melt." 

"Well, you can't use a flame thrower on a job that requires a lighter, baby," Tess admonished gently. "You've got to tread lightly here. You need to form a connection that will let him be able to reach out when the time comes." 

Monica nodded. "You're right. I only hope I haven't done too much damage already." 

Tess put an arm about her shoulders and gave her a comforting hug. "Somehow, I don't think you have. Benton Fraser can be one very forgiving soul." 

\---------- 

"...And then Mrs. Henderson sat down--" 

"And the glue splattered all over the classroom!" Eddie 

interrupted Ray with a hearty laugh, slapping his hand down on the tabletop. 

Ray joined in the laughter, the memory as vivid as if it had happened yesterday. "Including Judy Tettracino's new dress." 

"I never thought you would last out that month's worth of detention. Especially with the school principal just on the other side of the door." 

"Yeah, well, I think I did pretty well, considering the fact that you were the one who brought in the glue in the first place." 

"Hey, it was your idea," Eddie said with mock defensiveness. 

"But you did it." 

"Well, if you didn't want it to happen, you shouldn't have said anything to me in the first place." 

The waiter approached their table as Ray drained the last of the capuccino from his cup. "Are you sure you would not care to order dinner?" 

Ray glanced at his watch. "Eight twenty-five? Oh, no -- Fraser." 

"Who's Fraser?" Seduto asked, waiving the waiter away from the table for the time being. 

"The friend I was supposed to meet at the station over three hours ago. Knowing him, he was probably at my desk at four fifty-nine p.m." 

Eddie shrugged casually. "Hey, Ray. It's no big deal. You can just tell him you were held up by a case you were working on or something." 

Ray shook his head. "I can't even call him to explain." 

"Why not? You need change?" he began to fish for some loose change in his pants pocket. 

"Nah, it's not that. Fraser doesn't have a phone." 

Seduto was incredulous. "He doesn't have a phone? What is he, from another planet or something?" 

Ray smiled. "Something like that. Benny's a Mountie. Grew up in the wilds of the Yukon. Big city conveniences like telephones and cable TV haven't made a big impression on him, you know?" 

"And you're friends with this guy?" 

The question caught Ray off-guard. He thought about how his life had been turned upside down since the day the Canadian had blown his cover to that Internal Affairs officer in the holding cell nearly three years ago. Something in Fraser's quiet manner had struck a chord within him. Whether it had been the Mountie's determined investigation into the death of his father, or the man's deep but unspoken grief, which Ray, having lost his own father five years earlier, could understand, Ray was never entirely sure. But the night he'd tracked Fraser down to that empty diner and dragged him home to his exuberant family had marked the beginning of their friendship. They'd been through a lot since then -- so much so that Ray could barely even remember a time when Fraser **wasn't** a part of his life. 

"Ray?" 

The Italian snapped back to the present, and offered up a smile to his old friend. "Well, Fraser's a great guy, once you get to know him. He just takes a little getting used to." 

"Well, since you already missed your dinner date with him, and we haven't eaten anything yet, why don't we just go ahead and order. I'm starving." 

Ray hesitated a moment, then shrugged in agreement. "Might as well." 

They placed their orders with the waiter, then continued to relive old memories. But the laughter couldn't quite erase Ray's feelings of guilt. 

\----------- 

_Fraser walked aimlessly down the busy street, uncertain of his destination. People walked past him, their movements somehow off-kilter, their voices echoing harshly, blurring into an unintelligible jumble. Skyscrapers towered menacingly overhead, their height blocking out the daylight and casting the world in shadows. His eyes searched ceaselessly for something -- anything -- familiar._

"Ben." 

He turned abruptly as an achingly familiar voice reached his ears, his eyes desperately searching for the other half of his soul, lost to him not once, but twice. 

But he was alone. 

The once-crowded sidewalks were empty, the streets devoid of traffic. Not even the sound of the wind could be heard. It was as if the entire world had died, abandoning him to a solitary existence. 

Before him was the police station where Ray worked, and he went inside to find his friend. The soles of his boots echoed loudly through the vacant halls, as he searched room after empty room, ending his search in the place where it had begun -- in the Major Crimes bullpen. Still steaming cups of coffee sat on desks littered with files, yet there was no one to be found -- no officers whose duty it was to uphold the law, no criminals waiting to be tried, no citizens seeking justice. 

"Why, Ben?" 

He started towards the stairs, but when he swung open the door he found himself in the lobby of the Canadian Consulate. He took the stairs two at a time, but neither Inspector Thatcher or her aide, Ovitz, could be found. He didn't bother to search the rest of the building, knowing in his gut he would find no one there. 

A cold sweat broke out across his forehead. His heart pounded painfully within his chest, the silence surrounding 

him seeming to echo it's erratic beat throughout the building. He rushed down the stairs to the entrance and threw open the doors-- 

\--And stepped out into the brutal northern cold of the Territories. Snow fell heavily from the full gray clouds to a world covered in a blanket of white. The arctic climate surrounding him was nothing compared to the cold that froze his heart. 

Fortitude Pass. 

"You should be with me." 

He closed his eyes tightly, her words so closely mirroring those he'd whispered to Ray on the train platform almost two years ago. He could barely speak past the lump that had lodged in is throat. "I wanted to." 

Thunder rumbled off in the distance. 

He heard her move closer to him, the warmth of her breath softly caressing his neck. "Did you really?" 

He turned to her then, his eyes drinking in the cascading dark hair framing her Grecian features, and how the fire of her soul burned brightly in her dark brown eyes. He longed to reach out and touch her. "I was willing to give up everything for you. My career, my honor, my best friend..." 

"Then why are we still apart?" 

The thunder grew louder, echoing the storm that raged within his heart. "We can't be together, Victoria," his voice broke. Duty was causing him to lose the woman he loved for the third time, and it hurt even more than the first. "Not until you've paid for your crimes." 

She stepped back from him, anger cruelly twisting her features. She slipped a small gun from her pocket, aiming it at his chest. "If that's the way you want it." 

A single tear slid down his cheek, the cold wind freezing it to his skin. "I'm sorry." 

Her eyes held no remorse. "So am I." 

She pulled the trigger, the harsh report of the gun echoing loudly in the silence. The searing pain tore flesh, shattered bone, and he collapsed slowly to the snow-covered ground, its virgin whiteness soaking up his blood, turning red as life drained from him. 

Fraser bolted upright in bed, gasping for breath, as reality took shape around him. He closed his eyes, struggling to calm his racing heart. With a trembling hand he wiped the sweat from his brow. When he opened them again, he saw Diefenbaker watching him from near the door. 

The door trembled violently as someone pounded against it. From the sound of it, it hadn't been the first time, either. 

Fraser tossed off the Hudson Bay blanket and climbed out of bed, wondering who could be paying him such a late night visit. Releasing the lock, he opened the door. 

Ray Vecchio was on the other side. He took in the Mountie's sleeping attire and disheveled hair, then said, "I didn't wake you, did I?" 

Fraser waved him inside, grateful for the distraction. "Actually, I'm rather glad you did. Is everything all right?" 

"Yeah, everything's fine," Ray said, then turned to face his friend. "Look, Benny. I came over to say I'm sorry about dinner tonight." 

"It's all right, Ray," Fraser replied, knowing that the Detective had been out on a case just prior to the end of his shift. "I'm sure whatever it was that detained you was very important. Besides, a new neighbor was kind enough to share her dinner with us." 

"Yeah, well... Actually, I ran into an old friend of mine, and we sorta lost track of time." 

"Ah." A pause. "I see." 

"I haven't seen him in twenty years, and he's in town for a few days on business, so-- I wanted to call you, but you don't have a phone." 

"I understand, Ray," Fraser said with a slight tilt of his head. "It's only natural that you would want to spend some time with an old friend." 

Fraser's understanding only made him feel worse. "I tell you what. We'll go to 'Il Bel Paese' tomorrow night. My treat." 

A smile played at the corner of Fraser's mouth as he let his friend off the hook. "All right." 

Relieved, Ray returned the smile. "Great. I'll pick you up at the Consulate after work." 

"Very good." 

Fraser walked him to the door, opening it. But instead of leaving, Ray turned to him and asked, "A new neighbor, huh?" 

"Yes, Ray. Her name is Monica. She just moved in to the vacant apartment on the second floor". 

"She pretty?" he asked, a wicked grin appearing on his face. 

Fraser sighed. "Ray..." 

Ray chuckled quietly, then shook his head. "See you tomorrow, Benny." 

"Good night, Ray." 

\---------- 

Fraser finished knotting his tie and then slipped on his brown uniform jacket. He'd overslept, a rarity for the him, and wouldn't even have time to eat breakfast. Diefenbaker watched him as he set a bowl of food down next to the wolf's water dish. 

"I'll be back at lunch to take you for a walk," Fraser explained, securing the Sam Browne belt and giving it a final tug to settle it into place. "Ray and I will be dining out this evening, so I'll be home later than usual." 

Dief whined. 

"No, I'm afraid you can't come with us to the restaurant," 

Fraser replied. "Besides, you're on a diet, remember?" 

This time the wolf growled in annoyance. 

Fraser frowned. "The veterinarian said you've gained five pounds since your last visit, so until you get back into shape, table-food is off limits." 

Dief jumped to his feet with a bark. 

Fraser pointed a stern finger at him in warning. "Don't take that tone with me. You've got no one to blame for this but yourself." Staring into his companion's warm brown eyes, he felt a twinge of guilt, and relented somewhat. "Well, perhaps if I had been more forceful with you at the beginning..." 

There was a knock at the door. 

"Anyway, think of it as a challenge," he said as he moved to answer it. "The faster you get back into shape, the faster you can begin having occasional, and that is only occasional, treats." He opened the door. 

"Hello, Benton." It was Monica. "May I speak with you for a moment?" 

He nodded, letting her into the apartment. Diefenbaker approached her immediately, but her eyes were focused on the wolf's master, and she didn't reach down to pet him. 

"I wanted to apologize for last night," Monica said as soon as he closed the door. 

"No, Monica," he interrupted. "I'm the one who should apologize. It was very rude of me to leave so abruptly." 

"I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable." She gave him a faintly embarrassed grin. "I've been told that sometimes I'm a bit too nosy for my own good." 

Fraser found himself smiling as well. "Well, I'm afraid I can be a bit reticent at times myself, and asking questions is the usual way in which two people get to know one another." 

She met his gaze. "Yes, it is." 

Her eyes held him captivated for several moments as she seemed to look straight through him, right into his soul. _There's just something about her..._ He blinked, breaking the contact, and the moment was lost. Feeling vaguely disturbed, he glanced down at his watch. "Oh, dear. I'm afraid if I don't leave now, I'll be late for work." 

"Oh, then don't let me keep you. I just wanted to clear the air, that's all." 

He set his Stetson upon his head, and accompanied her to the door. "I'm glad we did." He turned back to Diefenbaker. "I'll be back around noon." 

But the wolf ignored him, still watching Monica. 

Fraser shook his head in puzzlement, then followed her out of the apartment, closing the door behind him. 

"Do you usually come back home for lunch?" Monica asked as they started down the stairs. 

"No, but I'll be going out after work this evening, and won't be back to walk him until late." 

"Going someplace special?" 

"Ray and I are going out for dinner after work." 

She stopped when they reached the second floor landing. "I could take him for a walk if you'd like." 

"Oh, no, but thank you kindly for the offer. I wouldn't want to put you to any trouble." 

"It wouldn't be any trouble at all. Besides, Diefenbaker and I need to get acquainted, too, if we're going to be neighbors." 

Hesitating for only a moment, he nodded in agreement. "All right." 

Monica beamed. "Good." 

"The door's not locked, so you won't need a key," he informed her. "You can take him out sometime this afternoon." 

"We'll be fine, Benton," Monica chuckled. "Now get going, or you'll be late for work." 

He nodded once more, a hint of a smile on his lips. Then he turned and continued on down the stairs. 

\---------- 

True to his word, Ray was waiting for him outside the Consulate when his shift was over. During the drive across town to the restaurant, Ray kept up a running commentary on the soaring crime rate, the prospects for either of the city's baseball teams to make it to the World Series in the coming season, and the relative rudeness of Chicago drivers. Fraser had to struggle to keep himself from smiling. After the second straight day of rather unusual activity at the Consulate, Fraser was looking forward to his friend's particular brand of humor. 

The restaurant was tastefully decorated, a large mural of the canals of Venice along one wall in the main dining room that was visible from all tables. The maitre'd escorted them to a corner table, and after perusing their menus, they placed their order. 

"So, was your day any better than mine?" Ray asked him. 

Fraser studied the detective's face for a brief moment before replying. "Apparently not. It does seem rather odd that the general populace of the greater Chicago area should all seemingly suffer from a major reduction of mental faculties at the same time." 

Ray chuckled at his friend's statement. "Yeah. Can't even blame this one on a full moon." 

The waiter returned to their table with a basket of warm garlic bread, and their salads. Fraser dug into his salad heartily, but Ray only picked at the food on his plate. 

"Is something wrong, Ray?" 

Ray sighed. "It's this case I was assigned to last night. 

Dead body in an alley. So far everything points to a drug overdose, and yet I can't shake the feeling that--" 

"I don't believe this," a loud voice interrupted. 

Fraser watched as Ray looked up at the voice's owner, then broke into a smile. "Eddie!" 

"Imagine running into you two days in a row!" Eddie slapped Ray's shoulder as Ray climbed to his feet. 

"You eating alone?" 

Seduto nodded. "I just dropped by for a quick bite -- my cousin knows the owners. Says the food is pretty good." 

Ray glanced down at him, and Fraser saw the question in his eyes. Fraser gave a slight nod, and said, "Then perhaps you would care to join us?" 

"Well, if you're sure I'm not intruding?" 

"Of course not, pal," Ray said with a laugh as he grabbed an empty chair from the table behind them and moved it to their table. The two men sat down. 

"I tell you," Eddie sighed as he made himself comfortable. "I thought I'd have time on this trip to kick back and relax, but it's been nothing but business since I got here. Haven't even had the time to read the morning paper with breakfast." 

"Well, you can relax now -- you're among friends," Ray replied, then introduced his two friends to each other. "Eddie Seduto, this is Constable Ben Fraser, RCMP." 

Fraser extended his hand, and the shake was returned immediately. "Ah, Constable. Ray was telling me a bit about you last night -- some of those hot cases you've been involved in." 

"Please, call me Fraser," he replied automatically, sparing a quick glance at Ray. "Yes, well, living in a city such as Chicago one is bound to run into strange circumstances--" 

"You're telling me," Ray said, a smirk on his face. "From supermarkets selling dog food for beef to chickens that lay golden eggs -- you name it, we've done it." 

The waiter returned to take Seduto's order. 

"Well, it's not as if all the cases I become involved in with you are bizarre, Ray," Fraser protested. 

"No, but you only seem to be involved in most of them." 

Fraser tilted his head, doing some quick mental calculations. "Perhaps you're right." 

Seduto laughed. "Well, don't let this guy kid you. He used to do plenty of strange things when we were kids." 

"Really?" Fraser asked, his eyes wide in surprise. 

Ray made a face at him. "Don't be smart." 

Eddie launched into one story after another, keeping them thoroughly amused throughout the rest of the meal. Fraser listened in earnest to the stories, amused at Ray's numerous interruptions as he argued at every perceived exaggeration. 

At the opposite end of the dining room, Monica and Tess watched them eating their meal with interest. 

"I can see why Benton would be drawn to a man like Ray," Monica observed. "He couldn't have had much interaction with children his own age living in a small village in the Arctic." 

"Yes," Tess agreed. "He learned to rely on himself at an early age. But children need to have close friendships -- someone they can confide in -- and Fraser never had that. That's why he needs to learn to open up now, and accept the fact that he's not alone anymore." 

They watched as the waiter came out from the kitchen and approached the animated men, removing some of the dishes cluttering the table. Monica's eyes widened when she got a good look at him. "Tess, what's Andrew doing here?" 

The Angel of Death spoke quietly to the three men, and Ray nodded. Andrew's eyes fell on his heavenly compatriots as he turned back towards the kitchen. He changed directions, and approached them, instead. 

"Well, to what do I owe the pleasure, ladies?" 

"We're here for Constable Fraser," Monica replied, her voice filled with concern. "What about you?" 

Andrew glanced over his shoulder to the men chatting amicably at the corner table. "I'm not certain yet. I'm on stand-by at this point. I don't think it's the Mountie, though," he glanced at Tess. "Or you would have been told." 

"Then it could be Ray?" the dark haired Angel asked. 

Andrew shrugged. "It could be..." 

Monica closed her eyes, looking heavenward. "Oh, I hope not." 

"Being a cop sometimes has its rewards," Ray said after draining away the last of his espresso. 

Eddie smiled enigmatically. "I don't doubt it." The smile faded. "But it must also have its share of drawbacks." 

Ray's mood slipped. "Yeah... Yeah, it does." 

"For example, the case Ray is currently working on," Fraser interjected. 

"Oh?" Eddie leaned forward slightly in his chair. "What case is that?" 

"Apparent o.d.," Ray replied. 

Seduto frowned. "You don't sound convinced." 

Ray sighed, reaching up to try and work some of the kinks out of his neck. "I don't know. Everything points to a drug overdose, but I've got a hunch..." He gave a small shrug. "I just hate to see life wasted like that." 

Fraser's eyes dropped to study the table cloth. He had also seen his share of senseless death, but patrolling such a 

sparsely populated area as the Territories, perhaps not to the degree his friend had. "It's something you never get used to." 

The waiter came up to the table and presented them with the check. Fraser reached for his Stetson, and Ray stopped him with a wave of his hand. "No, Benny. This was my treat, remember?" 

Fraser smiled. "Thank you, Ray." 

"Well," Eddie began, "I was an uninvited guest, so at least let me--" 

Ray shook his head as he got to his feet. "Forget it, Eddie. I'm gonna go to the restroom and take care of the bill. I'll be right back." 

The Mountie watched him go, a frown marring his features. Fraser had come to realize fairly quickly after meeting Ray that beneath the abrasive attitude was the heart of a man who cared very deeply. Fraser had also learned through experience that Ray's hunches usually panned out. And if Ray was right about this one as well... 

"Boy," the sound of Seduto's voice pulled him back from his musings, "who'd have thought that Ray would get so worked up over some dope addict?" 

Fraser met the cool brown gaze of Ray's childhood friend. "Any death is enough to upset Ray -- he's a very dedicated police officer." 

"Yeah, but who knows what kind of trouble she was into -- family problems, lousy love life, or even the post office eating a rent check." 

Fraser blinked, hesitating only a moment before replying, "Perhaps." He then fell silent. 

Ray rejoined them a few minutes later. "Okay, we're all set. Let's go." 

"Hey, Ray," Eddie said, slapping a hand down on Ray's shoulder as they headed for the door. "You want to go to the old neighborhood tonight? I'll bet Marty's got an empty pool table with your name on it." 

Ray smiled. "Maybe some other night, Eddie. I've gotta drive Benny home." 

"That's all right, Ray," Fraser replied. "My apartment is not too far from here. I can walk home." 

"Fraser, it's gotta be at least five miles to your place." 

"Hey, Constable, why don't you join us," Eddie suggested. 

"Thank you for the invitation, but I'm afraid I have to work tomorrow." 

"Okay then, Ray, how about you drive Fraser home and meet me at Marty's?" Seeing the indecision on his friend's face, Seduto grinned. "Yeah, your ol' man sure knew how to play pool. I'll bet none of it rubbed off on his kid, though." 

A wicked gleam lit up Ray's green eyes. "You're gonna be eating those words by the time the night is over, my man. I'll meet you there in half an hour." 

Ray talked about his friend for the entire drive, apparently having a limitless supply of anecdotes about their childhood exploits. Fraser sat quietly and let him talk. 

Ray parked the Buick in an empty space in front of Fraser's building, leaving the engine idling. 

"Hey, Benny, you seem a bit distracted. You okay?" 

"Yes, Ray." Fraser turned to gaze out of the windshield into the evening traffic, then cleared his throat. "Uh, Ray, about your current case -- the o.d. Was the victim female?" 

Ray frowned. "Yeah, why?" 

Fraser gave a small shrug. "No reason." He finally turned to face Ray once more. "Thank you again for dinner tonight, Ray." 

Ray smiled. "No problem, Benny. See you tomorrow." 

"Good night, Ray," Fraser said before climbing out of the car and closing the door firmly. He watched as the Riviera pulled into traffic, his gut tightening. Ray was not the only one who had hunches. 

But this was one time the Mountie hoped that his hunch was wrong. 

\---------- 

Fraser pushed open the door to the bullpen and entered, quickly scanning the large room for any sign of his friend. Ray was scheduled off duty today, but police work was not the most reliable job when it came to scheduling. 

Vecchio's desk was empty. 

He felt slightly guilty for coming in today, as if he were a child who had been told by his parents not to do something, yet was sneaking off behind their backs to do it anyway. But his law enforcement instincts had kicked in, and he was duty bound now to follow them. 

He approached the desk of Elaine Besbriss, who was busy keying in data into her computer terminal. As if sensing his approach, she glanced up at him and smiled. "Hi, Fraser." 

Fraser cleared his throat. "Good morning, Elaine." 

She cast a quick glance at Vecchio's desk. "Ray's not here today." 

"Yes, I know," he replied. "I am here to see you, actually." 

She leaned back in her chair, her smile widening. "Oh, really?" 

"Yes," Fraser said as he sat in the chair beside her desk and leaned forward, his voice dropping in volume. "I was hoping you would do me a favor. I realize it might not exactly be legal in the strictest sense, but I would not be asking if I did not believe it was at the utmost importance--" 

"Whoa, Fraser," she halted him with a raise of her hand. "Why don't you tell me what it is you want me to do, first?" 

Fraser took a deep breath. Once he asked Elaine to do this, 

he was committed. Not only would he be risking his job, and Elaine's job, but would be risking his friendship with Ray as well. _But it's my duty to uncover the truth..._

"I would like you to run a background check on one Edward Seduto." 

"Ray's friend?" her eyes widened in surprise. 

"Yes." 

"And I take it that Ray doesn't know about this?" 

Guilt flashed in his eyes. "No, and I would prefer he didn't find out until I have something definite to tell him." 

Elaine studied him for a moment, then gave a curt nod. "All right." 

"Elaine," Fraser cautioned, "please be certain about your decision. There is no probable cause for you to be conducting this search, and I don't have the authority to be asking you to do so even if there was. I don't want you to place your job at risk unnecessarily--" 

"I understand the risks, Fraser," Elaine interrupted. "But I also know that you're a damn good cop, even if your methods are a little strange, and if you think that there's a reason this guy should be checked out, then I'm willing to do whatever I can." 

Fraser's tense expression softened slightly. "Thank you, Elaine." 

"Besides, Ray's my friend. If there's a chance that he might be in trouble, then I want to help." 

"Ray is very luck to have a such a good friend," Fraser said, climbing to his feet. 

"Yes, he is." 

Elaine's dark eyes locked with his, and Fraser read within them her unspoken assertion that it was not herself to whom she was referring. 

A faint blush rose to his face. He cleared his throat. "Uh, have there been any developments in the Jane Doe overdose case Ray is working on?" 

"The medical examiner's report was completed last night, so I don't think Ray's seen it yet." 

"Do you know who was assigned to do the autopsy?" 

"Dr. Pearson, I think. Why?" 

Fraser nodded. He'd met the woman on a number of Ray's previous cases. "No reason. Thank you again for your help, Elaine." 

Elaine smiled. "Anytime." 

\---------- 

Pathology was located in the basement of the precinct. Fraser pushed open the doors, the antiseptic smell assaulting his nostrils immediately. Many law enforcement officers were uncomfortable when visiting the lab -- even though they saw death on the streets repeatedly in large metropolitan areas such as Chicago -- yet there was something about dealing with people who worked with death for a living that put people off. 

"May I help you?" an orderly asked. 

"Yes, I would like to speak with Dr. Pearson, if she is available, please." 

"Let me go check." 

A few minutes later, the blond woman came out to meet him, dressed in surgical greens, and pulling down her face mask. "Constable Fraser. It's a pleasure to see you again." 

Fraser inclined his head. "Dr. Pearson. I hope I'm not interrupting anything important." 

The woman smiled. "Nothing that can't wait a few minutes. While my superiors might be in a hurry, my patients aren't. What can I do for you?" 

Fraser glanced around. "May we speak privately?" 

A frown creased her forehead. "Sure. Let's go to my office." 

He followed her through the corridor and into the small room, closing the door behind them. He waited until she was seated behind her desk before speaking. "I was wondering if you might share with me the results of the autopsy for one Jane Doe." 

"Which one?" 

"An apparent overdose," he clarified. "The victim was found in an alley two days ago." 

"Oh, that would be Detective Vecchio's case," she replied, pulling a folder from a small stack on her desk and opening it. "I've got the file right here. Cause of death was an overdose of heroin, approximate time of death, Monday evening between Eight p.m. and midnight." 

"Was there evidence of prior drug use?" 

"No," Pearson replied as she scanned the report. "No track marks, or tissue that would have been destroyed through inhalation or ingestion. There were no other chemicals found in her system, either." 

"No hidden health problems that could have prompted her to commit suicide?" 

"She was in excellent physical condition. If this was a suicide, her reasons weren't from physical distress." 

"Was there anything unusual found on the body -- fibers, hair samples, that sort of thing?" 

"Yes, now that you mention it," the woman replied as she continued through the file. "Wood. Minute traces of wood were found beneath her fingernails." 

Fraser leaned forward. "What type of wood?" 

"It wasn't splintered, as if she had grabbed an uneven wooden surface, but dust particles, like from saw dust." 

"I see," Fraser said, his face giving not betraying any emotion. "May I see the body?" 

Pearson gave him a puzzled frown, but nodded. "Yes, of course. Follow me." 

She led him to the morgue. After they entered, Dr. Pearson moved to the row of draws where the bodies were stored for autopsy, and opened one that was about waist high. Fraser 

helped her slide the tray forward, but allowed her to uncover the victim's face. 

The victim was a young woman; Fraser judged her to be no more that twenty-five years of age. Features that would have been pretty in life were now slack and blue-white in death. Dark brown hair spilled loosely about her shoulders. 

Another life wasted. 

Dr. Pearson pulled the sheet back over the body and pushed the tray back into the wall, closing the door. Then she glanced at her watch. "Was there anything else I can help you with, Constable?" 

Fraser's solemn gaze fixed on her. "No. I think I have what I need. Thank you kindly for your time, Dr. Pearson. I appreciate your assistance." 

"How's your wolf, by the way?" she asked as she walked him out of the morgue. 

"Finding life in the 'big city' too convenient for his own good, I'm afraid." 

"If he's with you next time, be sure to drop by." 

Fraser nodded slowly. "I'll do that. Have a nice day." 

"You too, Constable," Dr. Pearson replied. 

Fraser exited the lab and started up the stairs. He would have to catch a cab back to the Consulate in order not to return late from his lunch hour. The fact that he'd missed eating anything never entered his mind. 

He'd lost any appetite he'd had, anyway. 

\---------- 

Seduto Construction Company was located in downtown Chicago, not too far from the Canadian Consulate. After his shift ended, the Mountie walked the short distance to the office building, taking the elevator to the fifth floor office. 

Fraser entered the tastefully decorated office to find a man at the reception desk. He had the phone off the hook and slung over his shoulder while he was rummaging through files and papers scattered haphazardly on the desk. The other phone lines were ringing incessantly. 

The man looked up, a harried expression on his face, as Fraser entered. "Can I help you?" 

"Yes," Fraser replied. "I am looking for--" 

"Just a sec," the man interrupted, slipping the receiver back to his ear and pressing a button on the phone. "Seduto Construction. Hold on a sec." He pushed another button. "Seduto Construction. Hang on." Then he hit a third button. "Yeah, Charlie, sorry to keep you waiting, man. I can't find the file. Damn secretary quits and no one knows where anything is. Let me look around for the file and call you back. Thanks." He hung up the phone. 

"Busy day?" Fraser inquired. 

"The worst. Stupid secretary just up and quits -- no notice, no nothing, and no one knows her filing system," he replied as he began rummaging through the papers on the desk again. "So I got drafted. I'm an electrician, for Pete's sake! Why couldn't she've just kept it alphabetical, like any other normal human being?!" 

"Did she say why she was leaving?" 

"Never showed up to say, from what I heard. Left here to run some papers to the yard on Monday then just up and quit on Tuesday." 

"The 'yard?'" 

"Sorry -- construction talk. Lumber yard." 

"Ah," Fraser replied, hoping he would not rouse the man's suspicions by asking too many questions. "Did she work here long?" 

"Oh, I don't know. Six months, maybe. Pretty girl, too. Just out here from the farm, you know the type." 

"Dark hair, slim build, about 5'6"?" 

The man straightened. "Yeah, that's right. Did you know Lucy?" 

"Lucy...?" he prompted. 

"Yeah, Lucy Cooper, our former secretary," the man replied, annoyance tinging his voice. 

"No, I'm afraid I never had the pleasure," Fraser responded. 

The man glanced down at the phone, then back up to him. "Was there something I can help you with? As you can see, I'm kinda busy right now." 

"Then I won't take up any more of your time. Have a pleasant evening." 

"Yeah, thanks. You too." He reached for the phone. 

"Oh, by the way," Fraser asked, pausing at the door. "How did you find out Miss Cooper quit?" 

"Mr. Seduto told me," the man replied, then dismissed Fraser totally by hitting another button on the phone. "Thanks for holding. What can I do for you?" 

Fraser nodded. "Thank you kindly," he said quietly, then exited the office. 

A few moments after the door closed, a tall, heavily built man, dressed in a sharp business suit stepped out from one of the offices, approaching the electrician-turned- receptionist. 

"Who was that?" 

The electrician shrugged. "I don't know, just some guy." 

"What did he want?" 

The man frowned, as if just realizing. "He never said. Just asked a few questions about Lucy, then left. Did I do something wrong, Mr. Smith?" 

Mr. Smith's eyes never left the closed door. "No, Jerry. You're doing a fine job." 

He turned and went back into the office. Sitting down at his desk, he picked up the phone and punched in a speed-dial code. "Yeah, Eddie. I think we've got a problem." 

\---------- 

Fraser sat at the desk in his small office in the Consulate, trying to move as quickly as possible through the large mound of paperwork Inspector Thatcher had given him the afternoon before -- his reward for returning from lunch five minutes late. Under normal circumstances, he would have finished it hours ago, but try as he might, he just could not keep the situation with Eddie Seduto out of his mind, and it had slowed him down considerably. He had had to work through lunch, and now, as the clock inched its way closer to Five p.m., he was finally down to the last two files. 

He reached for the first, opening it up to read, when the intercom buzzed. He pressed a button. 

"Yes?" 

"Constable, an Elaine Besbriss on line two for you," came the voice of Constable Turnbull. 

"Thank you kindly," he replied quickly, then picked up the phone receiver. "Constable Fraser." 

"Hi, Fraser," Elaine greeted, her voice sounding a bit tired. "I've got that information you wanted on Eddie Seduto, and it doesn't look good, I'm afraid." 

Fraser suppressed a sigh. "What did you find out?" 

"Apparently the police and the FBI have been trying to put together a case against Seduto for years. He's suspected of everything from racketeering to arson, and even murder, but every time they had a case against him, it would fall apart. For example, in 1989, the FBI brought an indictment against him for bribing city officials, but the key witness died before the trial started, and the charges were dropped. The FBI suspected she was murdered, but could never prove it. Official cause of death was suicide." 

Fraser's gut tightened. "Drug overdose?" 

"Uh-huh. Then in 1991, one of his major projects was suspected of being built under code -- you know, inferior materials, inspectors bought off, that kind of thing. The night before an outside inspector was to come in and check out the place, the building mysteriously caught fire." 

"Did you manage to find out why he's here in Chicago?" 

"Yes. His latest project is a new high-rise condo downtown. So far there's been no hint of impropriety, but that doesn't mean there couldn't have been bribes and payoffs to cover something up. With this guy's history, that wouldn't be surprising. There's more, but you can read it for yourself. I've hit the major highlights." 

Fraser nodded, even though Elaine couldn't see it. This information would be very upsetting to his friend. He knew the volatile Italian would have a hard time dealing with what he would see as a betrayal from a friend -- Ray was nothing if not loyal to his friends, as Fraser himself had experienced first-hand. 

Elaine's voice, full of compassion, interrupted his thoughts. "It's not going to be easy telling this to Ray. I don't envy you..." 

He cleared his throat. "Thank you kindly for your help, Elaine. I'll come down to the station after my shift is over. Will you still be there?" 

"Yes," she replied. "I'll be waiting for you. See you later." 

She hung up. 

Fraser set the receiver down and moved to the office window, staring sightlessly into the street below. He had no proof \-- just circumstantial evidence that added up to the fact that Edward Seduto was involved in illegal building practices, and that somehow, Lucy Cooper had been killed because of them. He had to warn Ray, if only so his friend could protect himself should Seduto try to involve him in anything illegal without his knowledge. 

But would Ray listen? 

Glancing at his watch, Fraser realized he had very little time to finish up that paperwork before his shift ended. He sat down at his desk once more, and focused on the file before him. 

\---------- 

Ray Vecchio was in a bad mood. His investigation into that Jane Doe overdose was going nowhere fast. No one had filed a missing persons report that matched her physical description, and the coroner's report found nothing to clearly indicate the death was anything but accidental. Nor was anything found on the body that would indicate who she was. The only thing that had been found were those wood particles, and Ray had no idea how they fit into the big picture. The alley had been swept during the initial investigation, and no wood fibers had been found. 

_But she could have gotten them under her nails from an earlier time,_ Ray thought to himself as he crossed the bullpen to his desk. _Everything in this case points to an accidental death -- so why can't I shake the feeling that it isn't?_

He glanced at his watch. It was 5:20 p.m., and Ray was supposed to eat dinner with Eddie tonight, his last night in Chicago before returning to New Jersey. It had been fun, reliving old times with his friend. His childhood hadn't been the greatest -- his father had made sure of that -- but there had been some good times, and quite a number of them included Eddie. 

Ray would miss him. 

Forcing his mind back to the task at hand, Ray picked up the Jane Doe file and walked over to Elaine's desk. "Hey, Elaine, I need you to run a check on these wood fibers. 

Check for anyplace they might be found, then get me a list of locations in the area." 

Elaine looked up from her computer, the annoyed look on her face fading quickly, being replaced with... Ray wasn't sure. "Sure, Ray. No problem." 

_That's strange, Ray thought. Normally she's all over my case for foisting the grunt work onto her._

Standing over Elaine's desk, his eyes fell upon a file folder half buried under the clutter, part of the name printed at the top just barely visible. 

Seduto. 

"What's this?" He reached out and picked it up. 

"Ray!" Elaine made an aborted grab for it, but she was too late. 

Anger suffused his features as his eyes moved from the file to the Civilian Aide. "What are you doing with a file on Eddie?" 

"Uh, well..." her voice was weak, helplessly pinned by the stormy green eyes. 

"I asked her for it, Ray." 

They both turned to see Fraser coming up beside them. 

"You?!" Anger causing his voice to rise. "What the hell for?" 

Fraser glanced around the bullpen. They were beginning to attract attention. He returned his eyes to the angry man before him. "Ray, we need to talk." 

"So talk." 

"Not here," Fraser replied. "Someplace a little more private." 

"Fine," Ray said, slamming the file into the Mountie's chest, then storming out of the room. 

He didn't look back to see if Fraser followed. 

Fraser had barely gotten the door of the interrogation room closed before Ray lit into him. 

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing, running a check on Eddie?!" 

Fraser knew there was no other way to break the news to the detective than to just say it. Besides, his friend deserved no less than the truth. "Ray, I believe that Eddie Seduto was involved in the murder of Jane Doe." 

"What?!" 

"I did some checking, and--" 

"You don't have any jurisdiction to 'do some checking' here, Fraser, a fact that you always seem to be forgetting," Ray cut him off sarcastically. 

Fraser did his best to ignore the outburst. "I believe that Jane Doe is one Lucy Cooper, receptionist at Seduto Construction Company's Chicago office. After working for the firm for the past six months, she was last seen heading to Seduto's lumber yard. The next day, Seduto told his men she had quit." 

"So what? Lots of people quit without giving notice, Fraser. That's not a crime." 

"Ray, the night we had dinner, after you left the table, Eddie referred to your Jane Doe as 'she,' yet you had never said that the victim was female, and most people would assume the a body found in such a manner would be male." 

"So maybe he read it in the paper," Ray countered angrily. 

"But he'd said he hadn't had time to read the newspaper since his arrival in Chicago." 

"Well, then maybe he heard it on the radio, or someone told him about it. Who knows how he could have heard about it?!" 

"Ray, Miss Cooper's final destination that evening was a lumber yard, and Jane Doe was found with wood particles beneath her finger nails. Also, the time of death indicates that Jane Doe died only a short while after Miss Cooper was running her errand." 

He stepped closer to Vecchio, his voice softening in empathy. "Ray, I know it's not easy to find out that a friend is involved with something illegal, but I'm afraid this is not the first time that this sort of thing has happened with regard to Mr. Seduto. According to the file--" 

"To hell with the file," Ray tore it from his hands and hurled it across the room. "I don't need to read a file to tell me the kind of man Eddie Seduto is. He's a friend! Do you have any idea what that means, Fraser?" 

Fraser's mouth opened to reply, but Ray cut him off. 

"A friend stands by you no matter what. He backs your play; he goes to the wall for you. A friend never is kind to your face and then, the minute you turn around, stabs you in the back. I thought you were supposed to be my friend too, Fraser..." 

"I am your friend, Ray," Fraser asserted, his voice hoarse. 

"Yeah, right," Ray snorted, his voice like shards of glass. Hurtful, cutting. "My friend -- who was willing to run away with a criminal and leave me with no house, no job and very likely no freedom." 

Fraser felt the blood drain from his face. 

Victoria. 

The violent storm of Ray's anger, combined with the painful memories of a love gone so wrong, crashed over him, dragging him down, drowning him, and his mind and heart flailed wildly, looking for something -- anything -- to hold on to, to keep him from going under for the final time. 

But Ray continued his destructive litany. "My friend, who let scum like Frank Zuko back out on the street in the name of 'justice,' only so the woman that I loved would end up dead." 

He snorted derisively. "Benton Fraser, upright, uptight Mountie, always doing what's right, and thrown out of your own country for doing it, too. Do you ever feel the pain 

those moral convictions of yours cause? Or does the Arctic ice that runs through your veins numb you to stuff like that?" 

Fraser opened his mouth to protest, but the words caught at the back of his throat. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. He was sinking to the bottom of the dark, raging sea, and he no longer had the strength to stop his decent. 

"You tell me I'm supposed to be your best friend, but it seems to me you treat me like one only when it's convenient for you. When it's not, I'm relegated to being your bank, chauffeur and general patsy. And I'm sick of it, do you understand me? I'm sick of it, and I'm sick of you! So just get the hell out of my life, Fraser, and stay out, or so help me, I'll..." 

Fraser watched in numbed shock as Ray took a menacing step forward, then appeared to somehow manage to regain control of his anger. Without another word, Ray turned and left the interrogation room, the door slamming open against the wall with a bang. 

He stared blankly at the door, officers and civilians who walked along the busy corridor unseen, as his entire world crumbled into little pieces. 

Fraser didn't know which was worse, the fact that Ray was taking the side of a man he hadn't seen in twenty years over his... 

Or the fact that, in his soul, he knew that Ray's cutting words had been true. 

Those words rang over and over again in his mind. 

It was true that Fraser asked a lot of favors from Ray, but even as Ray complained about it, Fraser believed he would not have done them if he really didn't want to. The whining and complaining were simply the Italian's way, learned throughout a lifetime of living in a large and boisterous family. 

A vision of the dark haired woman who had turned his life upside-down filled his mind, and Fraser closed his eyes as the pain washed over him. It had taken some time for Fraser to come to terms with Victoria's betrayal, and for the friendship he and Ray shared to regain its equilibrium as they worked through what had happened. But Fraser had thought it was behind them. 

Apparently, he'd been wrong. 

As for what happened with Zuko, he'd never intended to betray Ray when he sought the true murderer of Detective Louis Gardino. But Ray, and the rest of the 27th Precinct, had felt that he had when he had located an alibi for the crime boss. Again, he'd thought Ray understood why he'd done what he did -- that he was trying to serve justice, not frame a man for a crime he did not commit, no matter how much the man deserved to go to prison. Irene Zuko's death had been... unfortunate. And while Fraser did have to accept some of the responsibility for her death, the responsibility was not his alone to bear. He thought Ray had understood that, too. 

_Arctic ice..._

The shock was beginning to wear off, and a suffocating cocoon of loneliness was taking its place. Contracting, squeezing. Blotting out all air and light. 

He opened his eyes once more, and they fell on the file against the wall in the corner of the room, its contents spilled haphazardly on the floor. As if he were a robot with someone else operating the controls, he slowly crossed to the corner of the room and picked it up, his hands trembling slightly. Sliding the papers back into the manilla folder, he set it down on the table, misted blue eyes resting on it for a moment longer. 

Head bowed, he turned on unsteady legs and walked out of the interrogation room. 

\---------- 

Ray dropped the quarter into the coffee machine and waited, but the cup refused to come down. His fists rose up to pound on it, venting his rage upon the outdated piece of equipment. He was angry. Angrier than he had been in quite some time. The last time he had been this angry had been the night that Frank Zuko walked past him in freedom, the alibi found for him by a certain Canadian clearing him of murder charges for the death of Louis Gardino. 

He'd felt deeply betrayed by Fraser that time, just as he was feeling deeply betrayed by him once again. Time after time he'd stood by the Mountie, when everyone had been ready to give up on him. But not that time... 

And not this one, either. 

"You forgot something." 

Ray spun around, startled by a female voice. He'd been alone in the small canteen, needing some privacy to pull his raging emotions back under control. 

A dark skinned woman whom he'd never seen before stood a few feet away, dressed in a beige uniform and holding a folder. She must have come in sometime after he did. He'd been too upset to notice. She walked up to him and handed him a file. 

Eddie Seduto's file. 

Ray took a step back. "It's not my file." 

The woman -- Tess, according to the name-tag on her uniform \-- raised her left eyebrow. "Oh, excuse me, I thought you worked here." 

"Very funny," Ray snarled as he nearly ripped the file from her hands. "Happy now." 

"Now how can I be happy when I see a person in such pain?" 

"I don't know what you're talking about," came his automatic response. 

"Yes you do," Tess replied, not believing him. "As a police officer, you're more aware of terrible things people can do to each other that than most. Life changes things, and life changes people. Things you were certain about yesterday can leave you full of doubts today." 

Ray paused, startled. _Okay, I'm upset, that's pretty plain to anyone, but how did she know...?_ A vision of Fraser standing guard duty in front of the Consulate was there and gone in his mind in the blink of an eye. _Yeah, life changes people, all right..._

"Life changes things and life changes people," Tess repeated, as if reading his mind. "But not everything, and not everyone." Tess moved to stand beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "There are some things you can always count on. Always." 

He met her open gaze straight on. "Yeah? Like what?" 

"Loyalty," Tess responded, the grip of her hand tightening on his shoulder as he tried to pull away from her. "And friendship." She slid her hand to his upper arm and reached up and to grip his other arm with her free hand, turning him gently to face her. "I know you don't believe in those things right now, but you should. Some people are willing to risk everything for a friend, and that kind of loyalty is hard to come by. That kind of friend is one you keep, Ray." 

She let go of him then, taking a step back, and he followed her with his eyes. A strange feeling swept through him, leaving him feeling weak and unsteady. He gripped the back of one of the chairs in support. 

"Loyalty to a friend is one of God's precious gifts to us," she said firmly, "but you've got to be very sure that loyalty is not misplaced. You've got to use His gift wisely." 

With that, she turned and left, leaving him alone once again in the canteen. 

After a moment, Ray pulled the chair out and sat down, not trusting his legs to hold him up any longer. He felt anxious, yet calmer, the roaring flames of his anger now mere embers, worn out and spent. It was if something profound had taken place, but Ray was unsure as to what it had been. 

A stray thought passed through his numbed mind. _How did she know my name?_ Unable to come up with an answer, he let the thought go, his eyes moving to the file on the table. 

A precious gift... to be used wisely. 

Taking a deep breath, he opened the file and began to read. 

\--------- 

A black Lincoln Continental drove purposefully down the busy Chicago streets, the lightly falling snow offering no resistance to the heavy vehicle. Inside, Eddie Seduto kept his eyes focused on the road, though his thoughts shifted continually. Foremost on his mind now were the finalization of the details on his current project, and dinner with his old friend. 

The ringing cellular phone broke into his thoughts, and he pulled it out of his pocket, flipping it open. "Seduto." 

"It's me," came the voice of Mr. Smith. "I've just been informed by our associate in the Chicago P.D. that a background check was run on you today." 

Seduto frowned. "By whom?" 

"He didn't say," Smith replied. "However, the Mountie dropped by the station earlier, so if he's involved, then you can probably assume Vecchio is, as well." 

"Don't worry about Vecchio," Seduto's voice took on a hard edge. "I can handle him. As a matter of fact, I believe we can find out where my old friend stands this very evening. Meet me at the usual location in about half an hour." 

The smile on Smith's face could be heard in his reply. "Very good. What about the Mountie?" 

Seduto pulled the car up to the curb in front of the 27th Precinct, spying Ray standing in the doorway. "You can always take care of that particular problem afterwards," he told his associate as he watched Ray move out into the snowy night to join him. "I'll see you soon." 

Seduto hung up. 

Ray opened the door to the car and climbed in. "Hey, Eddie. What's up?" 

"Nothing much, just looking forward to a relaxing dinner." 

"Name the restaurant, and I'll meet you there." 

"No, we'll take my car, and I'll bring you back here after dinner," Eddie stated, pulling away from the curb so the other man would have no choice but to go with him. 

Ray shrugged. "I guess that'll be okay." 

"Good. Oh, I hope you don't mind, but I'm afraid I have a small errand to run before we go to dinner. It'll only take a couple of minutes." 

"Well, you know what they say -- 'business before pleasure.'" 

Seduto's eyes narrowed as they focused on his old friend. "Yes they do, Ray," he murmured. "Yes they do." 

\---------- 

Monica found him in a park, not too far from his building. Fraser sat staring off into the night, oblivious to the falling snow. She snuggled deeper into her coat, unused to 

the harsh Chicago climate. He didn't look up as she sat down beside him on the bench. "It's a cold night to be sitting out here in the dark." 

After a moment he turned to face her, a wistful smile on his face. "In the Territories, this would be considered balmy." He quickly scanned the area, his Mountie instincts coming to the fore. "You shouldn't be walking alone this time of night, Monica. It's not safe." 

She slipped her arm about his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "But I'm not alone, Benton. I'm with you." He stiffened fractionally but, discerning no threat from her, relaxed again a moment later, allowing the contact. "So why are you alone here so late at night, then?" 

Fraser remained silent. 

"You're used to spending most of your time alone," she began conversationally. "At least you were. Things have changed for you a lot since you moved to Chicago, haven't they?" 

"How do you mean?" 

"Well, when you lived in the Territories you worked alone in an area with very few people, and those people that were there depended on you for their safety. Life here it is very different. Trust is a hard thing to come by. There are too many people here who have been hurt so many times that most of them are afraid to accept your help. Like your friend Ray, for instance." 

"Ray has been a very good friend to me." 

"Yes he has. But so have you been for him." 

"Sometimes I wonder about that," Fraser said quietly, eyes dropping to the snow-covered ground. 

Monica tilted her head. "Why, because you ask him for a lot of favors? Or get him involved in things he normally would ignore? He's changed for the better for knowing you, Benton, no matter how much he complains otherwise." 

"Then why did he--" Fraser broke off, hesitant to reveal too much of himself. 

"Abandon you?" she finished for him. 

His stormy blue eyes met her compassionate brown ones, and she could see in them his struggle, and his pain. 

"Is that why you worked all those years alone in the wilderness, Benton, so that no one else could get close enough to hurt you again?" 

He searched her face for a long moment, a puzzled expression on his features. Finally, he asked, "Who are you?" 

"I'm an Angel." 

She watched his reaction. Some people reacted with fear when she revealed to them who she was, others with outright disbelief, questioning her sanity as well as their own. But the puzzlement passed from his face after only a few seconds, and Monica read the acceptance in his clear blue eyes. 

"I'm an Angel, Benton, sent by God to give you a message. He wants you to know that your mother's death was not your fault." 

He gasped, and she felt Fraser's entire body stiffen. After a moment he tried to pull away from her, but she held onto his arm, the strength of her gaze rooting him to the spot. 

"No one has ever told you that before, have they?" 

Fraser shook his head slowly. "No," came the barely audible reply. 

"Benton, your mother died because God called her home, not because of anything you did or did not do. Your father, in his grief, didn't realize you needed his reassurance that you were not to blame. Your grandparents were practical people, and it never occurred to them, either. Your father left, and you took the blame onto yourself. It was then that you decided to start keeping people at a distance, although you never consciously realized it." 

She gave his arm a gentle squeeze. "Life is a series of meetings and partings, Benton. People come into our lives with a purpose, and it's up to us to allow them entrance so that they can fulfill that purpose. If we remain closed to them, they can't teach us, and we can't learn from them the lessons God wants us to learn. Some lessons can be painful, but that's when God wants us to seek strength from Him and from those who love us. But if we never let anyone inside our heart, the pain can overwhelm us, and we can drown in a sea of loneliness." 

She could see the battle being waged within him mirrored in his bright blue eyes. A longing to be released from his self-imposed prison struggled desperately against a lifetime of fear. She turned to face him, releasing his arm and moving her hand to his shoulder. 

"Don't be afraid to let love into your life, Benton. Don't be afraid to tell people that you need, that you feel. It's not a sign of weakness -- it's a sign of strength. God loves you, and He will never abandon you, no matter what. You've spent your whole life giving to others. But it's time, now, that you learn how to give to yourself." 

She fell silent then, waiting. She could not make this decision for him -- it was his and his alone. 

A single tear slowly traced its way down his cheek. He took a shuddering breath, then a small smile broke out on his features. 

She matched it with a smile of her own, knowing that his struggle was over. She drew him into a warm embrace, her smile widening as she felt his arm wrap around her back. 

"Thank you kindly, Monica." 

"Oh, you're welcome, Benton," she replied, squeezing him tightly, feeling the tension drain from him, before releasing him. His arm fell away, and he sat watching silently her for a moment, as if committing the moment to his soul's memory. He then climbed to his feet. "Where are you going?" 

"I need to talk to Ray." He turned to head for the park's entrance. 

"Benton, wait!" 

He turned back to her. 

She didn't speak, her mind returning to the conversation she'd had with Andrew only a short time before finding Fraser, when the Angel of Death had told her that it was Ray Vecchio he was here for. _After all Benton's been through,_ she thought to herself, _how can I tell him now that someone else he loves is going to die?_

"Monica?" Fraser inquired, his voice puzzled. 

She closed her eyes, praying silently. _Dear God, please don't do this to him. If he loses Ray now, it will undo all the good You've accomplished here tonight. He deserves to have someone who loves him so. Please don't leave him alone in the world again._

After a moment she felt the Light touch her as she received her answer. 

_Thank you..._

She opened her eyes. Fraser was still standing a few feet away, concern plainly visible on his face. She moved to stand beside him, the joy on her face only moments before giving way to apprehension. "Benton, your friend Ray needs your help." 

They began walking swiftly towards the park's entrance. 

\---------- 

Ray sat quietly as Eddie parked the car in front of the lumber yard and turned off the motor. He hadn't felt like talking during the ride over, and came up with a lame excuse when Seduto had asked him what was wrong. 

"You can come along, if you'd like," Seduto said as he pocketed the keys and opened his door. 

"Sure," Ray replied, following the man out. His eyes took in the size of the yard as he followed Eddie through the gate. "This place is huge. You really use all this lumber on your projects?" 

Seduto nodded. "Yes, but we also sell to other construction companies. Not to the general public, though." 

"You make good money at it?" 

Seduto turned back to him. "You could say that." He scanned the yard, and Ray followed his gaze to see another man waiting for them some yards away. "That's my associate, Mr. Smith. Could you give us a few minutes?" 

Ray nodded, walking off in the opposite direction. He walked around some stacks of plywood and began wandering through the maze of cut lumber. 

Smith waited until the cop was out of sight before speaking. "Does he know?" 

Seduto sighed. "He's been acting really strange... Yeah, I think he does know. Even if he doesn't, it's only a matter of time before that Mountie friend of his will let him in on it." 

"So what's your plan?" 

He frowned in concentration for a few moments. "Okay, here's what we'll do..." 

Ray heard their voices before he saw them, but he couldn't make out the words. Curiosity getting the better of him, he moved in closer, staying behind the chest-high piles of wood so as not to be seen. But when he got to where he thought Seduto and Smith were, there was no one to be found. 

"That's just about where she died, you know." 

Ray spun around to find the two men had circled behind him. He straightened abruptly. "Who?" 

Seduto stepped a few paces forward, leaving Mr. Smith standing slightly off to one side. "Lucy Cooper. She overheard me making a deal with the Chief Building Inspector. Just knew she wouldn't keep her mouth shut. Kid like that, straight off the farm..." Seduto laughed harshly. "Probably never had so much as a parking ticket." 

"Jane Doe," Ray stated, voice flat. 

"I couldn't buy her off, so I gave her a high to remember for the rest of her life. A pity it was so short..." 

Face schooled into a blankness he didn't feel, Ray asked, "Why are you telling me this, Eddie?" 

Seduto shrugged. "I can always use a good man in the Police Department, to watch out for my... varied interests. Or, if you'd like, you can leave that miserable life behind. The new office building I'm putting up will need a chief of security. Pay's gotta be double what you're making off the city of Chicago." 

"You and me, just like the old days. What do you say, Ray?" 

"I say, go to hell, Eddie." He went for his gun... 

But before the gun could clear his belt, Seduto had his up and aimed. 

"I was afraid you'd say that, Ray. Lose the gun." 

Ray slowly completed the motion of withdrawing the gun, then tossed it reluctantly a few yards in the direction opposite his former friend. He cast a quick glance around him. The only escape route he could see was behind Seduto. 

"So you killed Lucy Cooper. Probably killed that other witness and burned down your own building, too." 

"Of course. I had to protect what was mine," Seduto said angrily, then managed to reign in his temper once more. "You know where I came from, Ray. I wasn't about to go back to living like that. It's a shame, Ray. If you'd only been more like your Pop, you could have been living' the easy life." 

"And become like you? No thanks, Eddie. My life might not be perfect, but it's a damned sight better than yours." 

Seduto nodded, his voice turning to ice. "I see. Well, then there's no point in trying to convince you otherwise." 

The man who, until this afternoon, he had thought was a very good friend stared back at him, brown eyes revealing no trace of a friendship they had shared since grade school. 

"Remember, it was your choice, Ray." 

He pulled the trigger. 

But the bullet never had the chance to pierce his flesh. 

From out of the shadows someone lunged at him, bodily knocking him sideways to land, hard, on the ground behind a stack of plywood. Even though the yard's lighting cast the man's face in shadow, Ray easily recognized the Mountie. 

"Cutting it a little close, weren't you?" Ray asked, glancing around for anything that could be used as a weapon. 

"I'll try and do better next time," Fraser replied, his voice strained. "I'll get the other one." 

"Eddie's mine," Ray said as they split up. 

Unseen by the men in the yard, Monica stepped up beside Andrew. The taller man looked slightly amused. "You weren't supposed to do that..." 

Monica shrugged. "I couldn't stand by and watch the man's best friend be murdered, Andrew. Benton has suffered enough loss in his life. Besides," she added with a quick glance heavenward. "I had permission." 

Ray began working his way to Seduto's left, using the large stacks of wood as cover. 

"You think your Mountie friend is going to help you?" Seduto shouted, scanning the yard, gun in the air. "Give it up, Ray. You never could outmaneuver me." 

The sudden sound of fighting gave Ray the distraction he needed. He leaped up and over the pile of lumber, bringing a two-by-four down hard on Seduto's arm. The gun fell from nerveless fingers, and he kicked it away even as Ray followed through by slamming the wood into the man's stomach. Seduto doubled over, air exploding from his lungs. 

Sirens could now be heard off in the distance. 

Ray threw the board to the ground. "Never could out maneuver you, huh, Eddie?" He punctuated his growl with an upper cut to Seduto's cheek. 

Seduto swung a fist at Vecchio, but Ray ducked it. Locking his hands together, Ray brought the man to his knees with a double-fisted blow. Seduto held up a hand, and Ray stopped, breathing heavily. 

"Is that what you thought? That by palling up to me I'd look the other way?" 

Eddie stared up at him, wiping the blood from his face. 

"Well, you were wrong." Ray pulled the cuffs from his belt and snapped one around of Eddie's wrists, clamping the other through the fence. He picked up Seduto's gun and slipped it into his jacket pocket. Ray could hear the tell-tail signs of police back-up arriving outside the lumber yard, but he didn't have time to wait. He retrieved his own gun, then set off to find Fraser. 

"I suppose you'll be leaving now?" Monica asked the Angel of Death. 

Andrew hesitated a moment before answering. "Not yet." 

Concern swept over Monica's face as her eyes fell on Ray, who stood up, scanning the yard for sign of the Canadian. 

The sounds of fighting continued, and Ray followed them, Monica and Andrew on his heels, to find the Mountie bent forward as if trying to recover from a painful blow, the larger man standing over him, a two-by-four coming down in a powerful arc towards Fraser's head. 

Ray fired, his bullet imbedding itself in the wood. The force from the impact threw the man off balance, and his swing missed Fraser by centimeters. 

"Freeze!" 

Smith did as he was told, dropping the board to the ground. Ray moved in behind him, securing him with his spare set of handcuffs to a metal rack that supported a large stack of wood. Ray reholstered his weapon. 

Fraser straightened slowly, supporting himself with one hand on a pile of lumber, and in the harsh light Ray could see the beginnings of a nasty bruise already forming on the Canadian's cheek. 

"Hey, Benny, you okay?" 

"Not entirely, Ray," Fraser replied, his voice weak. Ray saw him sway slightly, and lunged forward as the Mountie collapsed, catching him before he hit the ground. 

His left hand came in contact with something warm and wet on Fraser's back, and after he laid out the unconscious man down on the ground, he brought his hand up to wipe whatever it was off on his shirt. He froze, color draining from his features. 

It was blood. Fraser's blood. 

"Oh, God..." the words were torn from Ray's lips. 

Monica turned quickly to the other Angel. "Andrew, no!" 

Andrew shrugged. "Right now I'm just on Stand-by, Monica. I don't know how it's going to turn out." 

Ray pulled grabbed for the small cellular phone in the inside pocket of his jacket, glad he'd left the line open after calling for assistance when he and Eddie had separated. If the 9-1-1 recording of his call hadn't picked up Seduto's confession, the tape recorder in his pocket should have. "This is Vecchio! Officer down. Get an ambulance here immediately." 

The Angels watched as Ray pulled out a handkerchief from his pants pocket and slipped it beneath the unconscious man, trying to stem the flow of blood. Lieutenant Welsh and Detective Jack Huey raced towards them, but Ray paid no attention to them. He stripped of his coat and covered the Mountie. 

"Hang on, Benny. Help's on the way." 

Monica looked upwards towards the heavens. "Please, God. Don't let him die." 

The wailing of more sirens could be heard off in the distance. 

\---------- 

Fraser had been taken into surgery over an hour ago, and Ray was beginning to find the wait unbearable. After the wounded Mountie had been wheeled into the Emergency Room, Ray had been given the usual paperwork to fill out, something he was now able to do fairly quickly -- he had done this for Fraser more times than he would have liked in the three years he'd known the Canadian. Welsh had shown up a short time later, and he gave the Lieutenant a brief run- down of the evidence he had on Seduto. He told Welsh where the file Elaine had complied was located in his desk, and Welsh took the tape recording he'd made back to the station. 

And then he waited. 

Forty-five minutes later, a middle-aged doctor with salt and pepper hair came out of the ER to fill him in. The bullet had scraped along the right shoulder blade and had lodged up against a lung. They needed to remove the bullet immediately so that no fluid would have a chance to build up in the lung, and to make sure he wasn't bleeding internally. 

Now he was alone, waiting again, with only his guilt to keep him company. 

Ray paced the length of the small waiting room for what seemed the thousandth time, thoughts colliding into one another until his mind and heart ached. _Why did he do it? After everything I said to him, he still came after me... And now he's got another bullet in his back. I may have not pulled the trigger myself this time, but it's my fault, just the same._

He sat down wearily, closing his eyes and resting his head in his hands, desperately trying to calm the storm raging in his mind and heart in that darkness. 

A soft feminine voice suddenly caught his attention, and Ray froze, the words to the song flowing from the small ceiling speakers to penetrate the maelstrom of Ray's thoughts. 

Hey, your glass is empty  
It's a hell of a long way home  
Why don't you let me take you  
It's no good to go alone  
I never would have opened up  
But you seemed so real to me  
After all the bullshit I've heard  
It's refreshing not to see  
I don't have to pretend  
She doesn't expect it from me  


So don't tell me I haven't been good to you  
Don't tell me I have never been there for you  
Don't tell me why nothing is good enough...*  


Ray's throat closed up, eyes stinging, and he suddenly found it difficult to breathe. It was as if the song was a soft plea for understanding from his friend, an understanding that Fraser had never been able to ask of Ray before. 

The harsh words he'd spoken to the Mountie replayed themselves in his mind, the vision of the shattered look that had appeared on that expressive face all too vivid. _I was wrong. Fraser has **always** been there for me when I really needed him -- especially during that whole mess with Frankie. I was just too upset over Louis's death, and in too much pain, knowing that Frankie was going to keep me and Irene apart again, to realize it._

Ray's heart beat painfully in his chest for a moment as the thought of Irene. _If anyone knows how irrational a guy can get over a woman..._

_I had no right throwing Victoria back in his face like that. It wasn't his fault that bitch..._ A weary sigh escaped his lips, leaving Ray feeling older than his years. _Fraser's suffered enough because of her, so what do I do? I go and rub salt in the wound._

The final refrain of the song filled the small room, and Ray sat silently, wrapped in his own pain, as well as the pain of his friend. 

So just let me try, and I will be good to you Just let me try, and I will be there for you I'll show you why there's so much more than good enough 

He never heard the next song begin, alone in his pain and his fear. 

"It's not easy, is it?" 

Ray looker up to see a pretty woman with long, dark hair standing in front of him, gazing down at him with compassion 

in her eyes. _When did she come in?_

"What?" he asked, puzzled. 

"Having someone so close to you, someone with such inner strength, that you forget that they're human, too. They feel, they hurt, they make mistakes." She sat down beside him. 

Ray gaped at her, her insight uncanny. 

"But they also can understand, and can forgive." 

"Yeah, well not this time," he whispered, dropping his gaze to the floor. "After what I did, I don't deserve his forgiveness." 

"I was talking about you, Ray." 

His head snapped up, his eyes wide. "But Fraser..." 

"Yes, Benton is all those things, too. The only difference between you is that Benton wears his strength on the inside, and you wear your strength on the outside." 

That strange feeling of something... profound taking place came again, striking him square in the chest, and he forced the question through numbed lips. "Who are you?" 

"I'm an Angel," said the woman with the lilting Iris brogue. 

He could feel the blood drain from his face. "You're an..." 

She smiled. "Yes, Ray. An Angel. And God wants you to know that it was no accident that a certain file crossed your desk nearly three years ago. You needed to meet Benton Fraser as much as he needed to meet you." 

He stared at her, the need to hear what she had to say intensifying to an almost physical ache. 

"Ray, three years ago, you were enduring major upheavals in your life. You were recently divorced, your work level was slipping, and your belief in yourself was at an all-time low. You were lashing out at everyone and everything. Then you met Benton Fraser, who even in his grief, seemed tightly contained, with a work record that was exemplary, and whose belief in himself seemed unshakeable. You each found in each other the strengths that complimented your weaknesses, as if you were two halves of the same whole, and you became friends." 

She reached out to take his hand in hers. "To an outsider, your friendship with Benton probably seems rather one-sided, with you doing all the giving, and Benton doing all the taking. But your relationship is not bound by normal convention, is it?" 

Ray thought about her words. It was true, he did all sorts of mundane things for Fraser, things that the Mountie seemed to take for granted, such as driving him all over town or loaning him American money when all Fraser ever seemed to have was Canadian. He let himself get tangled up in the strangest situations because of Fraser, and let the displaced Mountie involve himself in Ray's own cases, knowing that his desk job at the Consulate had to be incredibly frustrating to a man who thrived on action. Most of the time Fraser never even bothered to thank him, although he was unfailingly polite with everyone else. 

But Fraser had given Ray something he'd gone far too many years without. While his co-workers and acquaintances disliked, or merely tolerated him, Fraser, from day one, had accepted Ray for who and what he was, and what's more, liked him for it. Complete acceptance, faults and all. _He never tried to make me something I wasn't. But he **did** show me that I could be a better person, if I gave myself the chance._

No amount of chauffeuring or money-lending could ever compare with that. 

It was an aspect of their friendship they had never given voice to. The closest they'd come to it was the argument they'd had during the Randal Bolt trial. _Well,_ Ray qualified, _the argument I had with Fraser. It wasn't his fault I felt jealous that he was getting all the media attention. He certainly didn't want it._ A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. _Metaphors...yeah._

"No, it's not," he replied with a firm shake of his head, perhaps for the first time, truly realizing the strength of his ties with Fraser. 

However, the warm feeling inside him was quickly washed away beneath a tide of guilt. "But after everything I said to him--" 

"Your friendship has weathered many storms and remained strong, Ray," she reassured him. "It will weather this one, too. But it might be time that both of you speak the truth that's in your heart." 

Ray sighed. "If we get the chance..." 

She looked away, eyes resting briefly on the empty space at the opposite corner of the room. He could not see the Angel of Death, leaning against the wall, hands in his jacket pockets, smile at her and give a single nod of his head. She then turned back to him, a smile breaking out on her face, and reached out to squeeze his hand. "Something tells me you'll get the chance, Ray." 

He closed his eyes in relief. _Oh, thank God..._

"Detective Vecchio?" 

Ray's eyes snapped open to find Dr. Ellison standing in the doorway, dressed in sweat-stained surgical greens. 

There was no one else in the room. 

Ray climbed to his feet on slightly unsteady legs. "How's Fraser?" 

"He made it through surgery just fine," the older man 

informed him. "He was quite lucky -- the bullet only bruised the lung. The whole area around the wound is going to be quite sore for a while, though, but physical therapy should restore the arm to full strength. We'll have to keep him in the hospital for a few days, to make sure his lung remains clear, but barring complications, I expect him to make a full recovery." 

Relief flowed through him, and he gave a tired smile. "Can I see him?" 

"Well, he's still in recovery, and it will be a while before the anesthesia wears off--" 

Ray shook his head. "That doesn't matter, Doc. I just need to see him." 

Ellison's gaze remained fixed on him for a moment, then he nodded. "Sure. Come on." 

They walked down the corridor to Recovery, entering the large ward for patients just out of surgery. Ellison stopped just before the small cubicle where Fraser lay, turning to face him, and removed a small plastic baggy from his pocket. "I saved the bullet for you. I knew you might need it as evidence." 

Ray's hand closed tightly around it. "Yes, I will. Thanks for everything, Doc." 

"A minute, Detective. No more." 

"Understood," Ray said, the left corner of his mouth twitching up in a slight smile. He waited until Ellison walked away before stepping into the cubicle. 

Fraser lay pale and unmoving on the bed, a large purple bruise on his left cheek the only color in his face. His right arm was bandaged to his bare chest to prevent any movement that would cause the sutures in his back to tear open. EKG electrodes were taped in strategic locations to monitor his heartbeat. An IV ran into a vein just above his left hand. An air of vulnerability clung to the Mountie, and Ray's guilt flared anew. 

Ray stepped closer, reaching out to wrap his hand about the fingers of Fraser's hand, mindful of the IV. Fraser's skin was cool and dry to his touch. "Aw, Benny..." he said softly. "I'm so sorry. You were trying to help me -- again. You didn't deserve this." 

He gave the fingers a gentle squeeze, reaching out with his other hand to brush a stray lock of hair off Fraser's forehead, letting his hand rest among the silky strands for a moment. The haunting refrain he'd head not too long ago returned to him. "Benny, you are 'good enough,'" he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "I'm just sorry it took something like this for me to realize it." 

"Detective," a nurse called quietly, not entering the small area. 

Eyes remaining on his friend, he withdrew his hand, and leaned over the bedrail. "I've got to go now, but I'll be back tomorrow." 

He straightened slowly and left the ward. 

\---------- 

Ray kept his eyes on the floor indicator of the elevator, waiting impatiently for the car to arrive at the fifth floor. Visiting hours did not begin until 11 a.m., and he had timed the trip over perfectly. He'd phoned earlier to check on the Mountie's condition, and had been pleased to hear Doctor Ellison's news that since no complications had arisen during the night, Fraser been moved to his own room. 

Not that he hadn't wanted to be there when Fraser woke up this morning. Yet part of him feared the moment when those cerulean eyes would fix their gaze on him, a gaze that would penetrate through to his very soul. 

The nervous tension in his chest and stomach increased as the elevator came to a halt at its destination. He owed his friend a major apology, and the possibility that Fraser would not forgive him filled him with dread. _I know I don't deserve it, Benny,_ he thought to himself as he walked down the hall towards the Mountie's room, _but please find it in your heart to forgive me._

A young nurse was coming out of Fraser's room as he approached, a concerned expression on her face. Ray stopped several feet away, and waited until she neared him before speaking. "Is he okay?" 

She hesitated a moment. "Are you a friend of Constable Fraser's?" 

"Yeah." _But for how much longer?_

"Physically, he's doing well -- no complications from the bullet wound, and he's slowly getting his strength back, but... He seems rather sad, for some reason. Quiet, withdrawn. Do you know what the problem might be?" 

"Yeah, I'm afraid I do," Ray replied, resignation strong in his voice. "Thanks for the update." 

She nodded, then continued down the hall. 

Ray's eyes fell on the open door of the Canadian's room. Taking a deep breath, he entered, stopping just inside the doorway. 

Fraser sat propped up in the bed closest to the window, the other bed in the room unoccupied. Gone were the IV and the EKG electrodes, and he was now wearing one of those unflattering hospital gowns, his arm nestled in a blue sling. He sat staring out the window, apparently lost in thought. 

"Benny?" 

The sound of Ray's voice pulled him back to wherever those thoughts had taken him, and after a moment Fraser turned his head. His face had regained much of its normal coloring, 

but the bruise on his left cheek had blossomed to now include a black eye. "Ray..." 

"Mind if I come in?" he asked hesitantly, feeling the tension level in the room rising. 

Fraser nodded, then returned his gaze to the window. 

Ray entered, stopping by the foot of the bed. The thought of sitting down in the chair, business as usual, seemed a bit presumptuous, so he stood shifting his weight from one foot to the other, hands dangling nervously at his side. 

As he got a good look at his friend's face, Ray felt his hopes for forgiveness falling from his rapidly beating heart down to the soles of his shoes. He hadn't seen that expression on Fraser's face since the rehab hospital nearly two years ago. The Canadian hadn't just been dealing with the bullet wound Ray himself had accidentally inflicted on him, but a depression at the betrayal and loss of his one true love. 

Ray had hoped to never see that particular expression on his friend's face again. The knowledge that he was the one responsible for its reappearance caused his guilt to overwhelm him. 

"Benny, I am so sorry," he began, his voice rough with emotion. "It was my fault you were shot. I should have listened to you. All those things I said yesterday, I didn't mean--" 

"Ray, please stop." 

The words were said so softly that Ray almost didn't hear them. He fell silent. 

Fraser turned to look at him then, his expression one of resignation. "You have no reason to apologize, Ray. It was you who were right... about so many things." 

The sadness in Fraser's voice moved Ray to the chair against the wall beside the window. He drew it close to the upper half of the bed, then sat down, leaning forward a bit. "Fraser, what are you talking about?" 

"Arctic ice," Fraser murmured absently, and Ray felt a wave of guilt wash over him anew. "I've surrounded myself in that cold, desolate wilderness my entire life. I never really minded the solitude all that much. As dangerous as it was, it was still safer than..." 

He stopped, his eyes dropping down to hands that were wrapped tightly in his lap, and Ray could see how hard it was for him to speak. "Fraser..." 

Fraser took a deep, shaky breath and continued as if Ray had never spoken. "It was still safer than living a life where everyone I loved left me." He raised sorrowful blue eyes to meet Ray's concerned gaze. "My mother died when I was six years old, Ray. And, although he grieved, my father left to return to duty only a short time later. Even though I was left with my grandparents, all I knew is that the two people I loved most in the world were gone... and I thought it was somehow my fault." 

A lump formed in Ray's throat, and he remained silent, his expression encouraging his friend to continue. 

"I've only... recently come to realize that it was then that I began distancing myself from people. When I was old enough to start school, I buried myself in my schoolwork. I'd go to the library instead of playing with the local Inuit children. I spent most of my time alone, or with my grandparents. They were the ones who taught me the codes of conduct that seem so antiquated today. I tried to please everyone, afraid that, if I did something wrong, I would be punished, that someone else I loved would be taken away from me. Each time we moved, I'd find excuses to avoid becoming attached to anyone who would eventually leave me again. The only person my own age I ever moved past the acquaintance stage with while I was growing up was Mark Smithbauer." 

He cleared his throat, but his voice remained hoarse when he continued. "When I was 16 years old, I was involved in an... unfortunate incident involving an abandoned mine, a boomerang and some gasoline, and I ran away from home. My father tracked me down, and convinced me to return and face the consequences of my actions. My grandfather died shortly after that incident, and that only seemed to reinforce my fear of abandonment... and my belief that somehow, I was the cause. I joined the RCMP so that I could be of service to others, and so that my father would be proud of me. Again, I buried myself in my work, and after I graduated I requested duty station after duty station that would somehow isolate me from others. But even that didn't help. Less than two years later I tracked a young woman who had been involved in a bank robbery to a remote place called Fortitude Pass..." His voice faltered. 

Victoria. 

Ray held his breath, waiting. It seemed like an eternity passed before Fraser found the strength from somewhere deep inside to continue. 

"I'd found the other half of my soul, yet I was duty bound to turn her in. Eight months later, my grandmother passed away, and I knew I had failed again. I buried myself deeper in my work, requesting a duty station even more remote than the last, and life went on." 

Ray listened as his friend poured out a lifetime's worth of 

loneliness and pain, his heart aching as if the pain were his own, and knowing the only way he could help ease it was to allow Fraser relive it. 

"The last time I spoke to my father was the Christmas before he died. I knew something was wrong -- I could hear it in his voice -- but I was... afraid to ask. Since the day I learned of his death, not a day goes by that I haven't asked myself if there was something, anything, I could have done that might have prevented it. I should have..." His voice began to tremble, but he forced himself to go on. "I should been able to do something--" 

"Fraser," Ray interrupted gently, "You did do something. You tracked down the man responsible. I don't think any other law enforcement officer in the world could have traced Drake back to Chicago, and then linked him to Gerard." 

"It was too little, too late, Ray," Fraser whispered sadly, eyes filled with tears he seemed to prevent from falling by sheer willpower. "You know, I loved my father more than anyone else in the world. I loved him so much that I tried to grow up to be just like him. The funny thing is, I succeeded only too well. My father put duty above all else, even his family, and he could never admit his true feelings... to anyone. While he was alive, I never once told my father that I loved him. The words just wouldn't come." 

Ray thought about his own father. "The words won't come for a lot of people, Benny." 

An understanding smile caught the corner of his mouth, then disappeared as quickly as it had come. "When I came to Chicago, I was alone, truly alone, for the first time in my life. You welcomed me into your home, Ray, and into a life I had no real experience with. You came to fill a void within me I never knew I had. Yet as much as I wanted your friendship, I was afraid of it as well. Afraid to become too dependent on you, afraid that if I became close to someone else, they would only leave me, too. So even as I did indeed become dependent on our friendship, realize now that I treated you rather poorly these past three years because of that fear, Ray. I took you, and our friendship, for granted, and I owe you my deepest apologies for that." 

"Aw, Benny," Ray interrupted, no longer willing to listen to Fraser berate himself over something which, ultimately, no longer mattered. "You have nothing to apologize for." 

The Mountie's eyes widened in disbelief, and Ray sighed. Fraser had been completely honest with him, and he owed his friend no less than the truth. "Sure, okay. I admit it, at first it used to bother me sometimes that you just... expected me to do things for you, with not even a 'please' or a 'thank you kindly' that you always seemed so eager to give everyone else. But you gave me something no one else was willing to give -- acceptance. You like me for who I am, Benny, not for what you could change me into. That means a lot more to me than those superficial niceties most people take for granted these days anyway." 

"And I'm sorry about throwing what happened with Victoria and Irene..." Fraser's eyes clouded over slightly, but Ray continued, knowing he had to say it, and Fraser needed to hear it. "...back in your face, Fraser. I **know** you were standing by me during that mess with Frankie, and as for Victoria... Well, we both know now what love can drive a man to. It's just that you caught me off guard about Eddie, and..." 

He sighed, moving his gaze to the night stand beside the bed, not sure how to phrase what he wanted to say. "I haven't had many friends in my life, either, Benny. But those I've had I'm loyal to. Your accusations against Eddie just raised my hackles, and I lashed out without thinking. I guess I was seeing my friendship with him through rose- colored glasses, and I let them blind me to the clearest, brightest friendship I've ever had." 

Silence. 

After a few moments, Ray looked over to find an intense look on Fraser's, that penetrating gaze he had been so fearful of earlier impaling him, his soul bare and exposed beneath it. "Ray, a lifetime of fear kept me from telling my father how I felt about him. I'm not going to make the same mistake twice. You're the best friend I've ever had, Ray. I've never let anyone else become as close to me as you have. Ever. Please, don't ever doubt the fact that I will stand with you, and by you, for the rest of my life." A smile, warm and genuine, suffused Fraser's features, like dawn breaking on a cool spring morning. 

An answering smile tugged at his own lips. 

The crisis was past. 

Except for one last thing. 

Ray let his smile remain for a few moments longer, then it faded, replaced by a more serious expression. "Benny, it wasn't your fault, you know." 

Fraser's face took on a slightly puzzled expression. 

"Your mother," he clarified, "and your grandparents. Even your dad. Their deaths were not your fault. You know that, 

now, don't you?" 

"I..." Fraser lowered his head for a moment. When he raised it again, he found his eyes pinned by a concerned green gaze. "It wasn't something I ever consciously thought about, Ray, until... Until now. I can see the logic of it in my mind, though, and I am working to accept that truth in my heart, but... I'm afraid it's going to take more than a single night to unlearn a lifetime's habits." 

"Well, I'm here to help, Benny," Ray offered, a world of strength in the softly spoken words, "if you need me." 

"I'll always need you, Ray," Fraser returned, with something much deeper than gratitude. "Thank you." 

They sat together in companionable silence. 

\---------- 

"Are we interrupting anything? 

That soft Irish brogue came from the vicinity of the door, and Fraser looked up from the remote control on the bed rail to see Monica and another woman standing just inside the entrance to his room. 

"No, not at all, Monica. Please, come in," Fraser replied as he finished readjusting the head of the bed. The emotional fire that had purified and solidified the relationship between himself and Ray earlier that morning had also drained Fraser's injury-depleted energy reserves, and he had fallen asleep soon afterward. He had awaken only a few minutes ago, to discover Ray had lowered the bed to make him more comfortable. He was still sitting in the chair, and had looked happier than Fraser could ever remember him being. 

He glanced affectionately at the object of his thoughts, to find Ray's face had suddenly lost quite a bit of color. "Ray, are you all right?" 

The Italian swallowed convulsively, his eyes going from Monica to the dark skinned woman standing beside her, and back again. " **That's** Monica?" 

Fraser's eyes widened. "You two know each other?" 

Monica nodded. "We met last night, didn't we, Ray?" 

Ray nodded silently. 

"Then he knows you're..." Fraser trailed off, not wanting to 'blow her cover.' 

"Oh, yes," she reassured him. 

Ray's head snapped back to his friend. "You knew she's an..." 

Fraser nodded, a warmth stealing over his heart. "An Angel. Yes, Ray, although I only found out last night. Monica helped me... realize a few things about myself. She was also responsible for my being able to save your life." 

"Well, indirectly..." she amended with a glance heavenward. She turned back to his partner. "Ray, I believe you already know my friend, Tess." 

"Hello again, Ray," the dark skinned woman said, a playful smile on her face. 

"You're an... Angel, too?" he asked weakly. 

"I guess God figured you needed an extra bit of help," Tess replied, her smile growing wider. 

"Then I have you to thank as well, Tess," Fraser said. 

The gentle teasing left her face, and it was with genuine love that she replied, "Oh, baby, it was our pleasure." 

"Will you be leaving here soon?" Fraser asked. 

"I'm afraid so," Monica replied with a look to her supervisor. 

"There's always someone else who needs a helping hand," Tess added. 

"Diefenbaker will be sorry he missed you." 

Monica smiled self-consciously. "Oh, well, I already stopped by your apartment to say good-bye. I hope you don't mind." 

Fraser shook his head, then paused as something else occurred to him, his head tilting slightly. "He knew about you, didn't he?" 

"Animals can be very perceptive creatures," Monica informed him. 

"Indeed." 

"Well," Tess said, knowing their time here was just about over. "We really do have to go. You two take care of yourselves." 

"We will," Ray promised. 

"Good bye, Monica, Tess," Fraser said, his voice conveying a myriad of feelings. "Thank you again for everything." 

"Yeah," Ray agreed. "Thanks." 

"You're welcome," Monica replied, and then she and Tess left. 

Ray's gaze moved back to him, and he shook his head in wonder. "Well, that explains a lot about what's happened in the last couple of days, doesn't it?" 

"We owe them a great deal," Fraser stated quietly. 

"Not just them," Ray replied, with a glance upward. "Angels. You know, Benny, I was raised in a Catholic family, and go to Church and all, but... it's kind of humbling when something so..." 

"Miraculous?" Fraser supplied. 

Ray nodded. "Yeah, miraculous. When something like that happens to you, well..." 

"We were very lucky, Ray." 

Ray smiled, his green eyes sparkling. "It was more than just luck that you and me became friends, Benny," Ray said, thinking back to what Monica had told him the night before. "I have it on very good authority, trust me on this." 

"If you say so, Ray," Fraser replied, feeling a peace settle over him like he had never known. But a niggling thought intruded, and he frowned. 

Ray noticed. "What?" 

"I wonder why Dief didn't tell me?" 

Ray sighed, wearing his most put-upon expression. "Who knows, Benny? Maybe your wolf suddenly found religion, or something." 

"You know, Ray," Fraser began, "it's a popular misconception that animals have no spiritual lives. As a matter of fact, according to the Inuit..." 

Ray smiled, leaning back in his chair and making himself comfortable. From the excited tone creeping into Fraser's voice, he knew that this was going to be one of the Canadian's longer stories. But he didn't mind. Not anymore. They were there, together, basking in the warmth of a friendship that was so much more, and all was right in the world. 

The End 

* "Good Enough" -- Words and music written by Sarah McLachlan Fumbling Towards Ecstasy Arista Records 

\---------------- 

Copyright July, 1996 by Angela Rivieccio. Not meant to infringe upon the copyright holders of DUE SOUTH, including Alliance, CTV, BBC or any other copyright holders. Please do not reproduce in any format for anything other than personal reading without written consent of the author. Feel free to e-mail comments to 

* * *


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